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Light Pollution

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Light Pollution


Buildings drowning ever lower
The plane takes off to hover over
the renewed streets and lights below
We pass through cold blue nights and other views

I hear stars appear through the window glass
Pale fuzzy dots and colored headlights disperse
Shooting stars centering universes
My headphone cord on my boarding pass

My imaginary friends are sitting on the wing
Passing years and waving miles
take me through black skies
Are there any other nyctophiles?


cosmic stairs and stars take me here
upstairs, in lowercase

in the comet observatory in silence
i make out some droplets falling
clear and crystal air surrounds me

it's all so tranquil

reversing back a bit i think
are there any other introverts? 
and if so, could they message me? 


Can I stand up from the discomfort and awkward rhymes?
Break the unsound rhythm of these airlines? 
Is the seatbelt sign turned off, 
Or are the lights and dings just stars flickering?

I look down to the aforementioned streets and lights
There are street lights and houses glowing bright
The globe blinks with a million flares
So intricate and brilliant

Taken aback by sheer stardust
and the nightly life below us

Who cares if the lights and buildings drown out the stars
If ours light the sky up better yet?
With a better pallette and distribution
If it leaves architects breathless
Who would care for light pollution? 

The lanterns set my heart ablaze
How would I even paraphrase
Something so amazing as this?
Are there any other luminists?


A paper room with paper hearts
Paper birds that huddle up
Paper airplanes and imaginary time zones
Paperback storybooks

Sketchbooks thrown around the place
Every other line trying desperately
to write out and start a melody

The stories I'll tell, the stories I've told
My radio show with my microphone
Playing back old cassettes
For the people I yet haven't met
I highlight the memories I'm afraid to forget

To my imaginary paper friends
I write love letters every now and then
Are there any other storytellers?

For now though, I set this place ablaze
The smoke settling uncovers a window

I see an airplane passing by
tranquilly woven into the blue cold night
And I feel warm inside
Because stars don't really flicker, do they?



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